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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488366">Would You Care to Dance?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansP1e/pseuds/DeansP1e'>DeansP1e</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Blood, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Reader, Gore, Great Depression, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Human Mimzy (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt No Comfort, Period Typical Attitudes, Possessive Behavior, Swearing, human reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:02:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansP1e/pseuds/DeansP1e</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He's just so hungry, he simply can't help himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Would You Care to Dance?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>yo so this is gonna be fucked up if you couldn't tell from the tags<br/>so if'n you're squeamish or something, seriously don't read</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sighing as you walked home, your plain blue dress fluttering in the light wind, you stared at the ground as you walked. The only light was from the Moon and street lights, the only noises being your footsteps and your breathing. 'Twas another long day at the local diner, Mimzy, the one face who you could trust in this God-forsaken city, helping you with the bussing and making smart remarks on the guests when the two of you had downtime. With what happened in 1929, you could but imagine what could await you in this horrible year of 1933. You snickered as you rambled up to your door with not a care in the world, unlocking the door and stepping in. You were lucky that you even had a home during this 'Great Depression'. Or a job, for that matter. You furrowed your brow as you went through the motions of closing and locking the door behind you and taking off your heels, sighing in relief as your feet immediately relaxed. You always could never wear heels without your feet hurting within not even five minutes, yet you wore them anyway. You smile as you remember your mother chiding you when you wore and subsequently fell in your first pair of high heels, completely without any grace at all and falling flat on your face. As you headed up the stairs of your childhood home to your bedroom, you ponder if anyone would notice if you wore your hair differently tomorrow, deciding that, yes, people would notice.</p><p>You opened the door to your room, about to walk in when you saw and consequently screaming at a strange man on your bed. You had no idea how he got in here, nor why. He suddenly stands and walks towards you, and in your terror, you simply stand there, not wanting to anger this man.</p><p>"Why, hello, darling! Alastor at your service!" he exclaims, holding out his right hand, and in response, you flinch away, taking a step back. "Now, doll, that's simply rude!" he says, grabbing your right hand with force and making you cry out.</p><p>"Shake my hand," he darkly says, his expression sending more shivers down your spine. Deciding that you don't want to die, you meekly shake his hand, which has the effect of making his face become joyful once again. Once he releases your hand, you massage it and ask him how he got in.</p><p>"Oh, it was a simple thing: Your window was unlocked!" He laughs at the non-joke and you nervously chuckle to save your skin.</p><p>"But we're on the second story?" you ask, furrowing your brow as he lets you into your own room. He sits down on your bed, the bastard, and you put your desk chair in front of him and sit.</p><p>"Never mind that," he finally says before his already big grin seems to get even wider. Never have you felt more uncomfortable in your own home. You even lean back, hoping against all hope that he says what he wants and leaves. You, unfortunately, get your wish: "My dear, never have I felt like I do towards another person, and yet you've made me all goofy." He leans forward, getting into your space. "I want you, <em>mon amie</em>, simply and truly." Okay. Creepiness factor past ten and to twenty now. You make a face, pushing the chair back, standing, and taking a step away.</p><p>"After you've invaded my home and made me fear for my life, you say that?" Self-preservation set aside for anger, you step into his bubble and slap his face. "Beat it before I call the coppers, bastard," you steam, pointing a finger in his chest. However, you immediately regret your hasty decision when he stands and procures a dirty rag out of his back pocket. He pushes you to the wall without a word by way of a hand wringing your dainty neck, and you faintly smell ether before you pass out thirty seconds later.</p><p>------</p><p>You groan as you slowly wake, a headache making itself fully aware. You try to raise your hand to bring it up to your head, but to no avail. Opening your eyes reveals that you're in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar place, bound to chair hands and feet and fully naked. You curse, testing the bonds to see if the creepy fella messed it up, also to no avail.</p><p>You suddenly realize that you hear... jazz? From where you haven't the foggiest clue. From your vantage, you're sitting in front of a half-broken door that's barely hanging on its hinges, and to your right is a small table, and from what you can see, all that's on it are what you assume to be medical supplies. As if you weren't scared enough! You look to your left and see nothing but black. Seems Alastor doesn't want you to see behind the curtain. Then again, if he didn't want that, he wouldn't've put you here. The door opening causes you to look ahead again, and sure enough, in comes Alastor.</p><p>"Ah, you're awake! Seems like that ether finally wore off!" he exclaims, honest-to-goodness giggling like a schoolgirl as he happily goes to the table. He reaches for a scalpel, pausing as you speak.</p><p>"What are you going to do to me?" you tentatively and meekly ask.</p><p>He steps over to you, his hand gently tucking your hair behind your ear even as you glare at him intensely. "Why, <em>mon amie,</em> I'm going to doll you up," he slowly says, his grin getting wider and wider until it can't no more and even then, it gets wider than that. Thoroughly creeped out, you try to look away, but he simply grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.</p><p>"Smile, my dear! You're never fully dressed without one," he exclaims suddenly, forcing his fingers into the sides of your mouth, slowly and painfully pulling your lips into a grin. He hums along to the song as he skips away, your lips dropping immediately into a sneer, and he comes back with the scalpel.</p><p>You shake your head, letting out 'no's that progressively get louder as he moves the scalpel closer and closer to your stomach. You let out a very loud scream as it pierces your skin and slowly gets dragged to make an opening. You hyperventilate as the blade gets removed, the blood loss making you dizzy and lightheaded, Alastor still humming along to the song as he puts the scalpel back all the while. Oh god, you can feel your organs slowly making their way out of you, your diaphragm forcing your intestines out. You try to slow your breathing, but it doesn't work when he comes back gloved and with medical scissors.</p><p>He forces his left hand through the opening, searching for something on the right of your body as you scream again, this time weakly due to, you know, loss of blood. He pulls out your liver, snipping the connections and hurriedly placing it in a large jar. By now, you've lost a <em>lot</em> of blood, the sound of it dripping onto the floor barely managing to keep you aware. Although, you're hurriedly racing to death. Is this what death feels like? Knowing that you only have a short time to live and barely staying awake? He comes back with the scalpel and a hammer, this time dragging the blade up to your neck, and by now, you're just letting out little whimpers. He pulls the skin and muscle aside and sets the scalpel down. Alastor rears back the hammer and brings it down to your sternum strongly, breaking it and several ribs, and so, he sets the hammer down and picks up the scalpel. He carefully moves aside the pieces of your ribs, staring at your slowly beating heart and grabbing it.</p><p>The sound of your heart being placed in a jar after he cuts away the veins and arteries barely reaches you, and you know that this is your final moment. The last thing you hear before you die is Alastor humming along to the song on the radio.</p>
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